


Jolly Jack’s

by RV_Qkpndj



Category: Original Work
Genre: Eldritch, Gen, Horror, Lovecraftian, Old Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RV_Qkpndj/pseuds/RV_Qkpndj
Summary: “Welcome to Jolly Jack’s! The last family-owned Hardware Department Warehouse Store! We have stores all along the Southern East-Coast! Hiring Now! No Experience Required! Inquire Inside or Online!”-Jolly Jack’s Employment Poster Ad.
Collections: A Collection Of Short Stories





	Jolly Jack’s

Johanna absently looked down to her phone while stocking shelves. The day was just starting for Johanna, her shift beginning at 2:30 and ending later in the night. Johanna hated closing, hated the emptiness of the warehouse as employees and customers left for home and especially hated Morrison. Morrison was the very definition of creepy and sleazy. His hair was oddly oily, he would leer at her, staring her down whenever she entered his general area, and he thought he could get away with anything (as his father owned the Corporation). His entitlement knows no bounds.   
Morrison (to no one’s surprise) was a senior manager and it so happens was Johanna’s boss. Sometimes Morrison would walk up behind her and reach over her shoulder to point at something or correct her work. His breath would be cold along her neck and force her to conceal a shudder. Her only saving grace was, Victor “Vicky” Ruiz, one of her co-workers. She disliked him also, just not as much as Morrison. Vicky could be a bit much, his constant ranting, over-excitedness, and his absolute refusal to observe personal space. The only reason she hung out with him was that Morrison wouldn’t mess with her with him around. M.J. (her best friend) would hang out with Vicky from time to time. Morrison’s brashness would simmer out with Vicky or M.J. around and with both of them, he was nowhere to be seen. 

Unfortunately, M.J. was away on vacation ( New Mexico, she thinks) and Vicky had a half-day; “I have a bit o’ ‘mportant business to take of care today…” Vicky trailed off, then proceeded to mop faster and mumble something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch. She was going to be all alone here with Morrison and his gaggle of cohorts. For a store that was the “seat” of the company, it was still fairly small. In the 80’s they added a second floor and increased the parking lot but that is about it. Whitney A. (not to be confused with Whitney C.) was the junior manager below Morrison; who covered all of the first-floor departments. Whitney A. covered the Tools and Gadgets Department. That is where Johanna found herself while texting M.J. about missing her. 

Her mood only deteriorated as the day wore on. From the loud and obnoxious customers to ridiculous co-workers (why Vicky why?), and horrible Morrison’s gaze. He would circle her like a wolf stalking its prey. A toothy grin was always on his face. Morrison would appear when she least expected it. Johanna suspects that the other junior managers were spying on her. Telling terrible Morrison her whereabouts. On her lunch break? There was Morrison getting a snack from the vending machine. Going to the bathroom? Morrison would be talking to a friend by the door. Texting a friend in a random aisle far from prying eyes? Morrison would be in the next one over. 

Madness! It was all madness! She felt a little safe, with Vicky still in the building, but come 7 o’clock she was on her own. Stuck here with Morrison and his cronies. She found a way to be around Vicky for as long as possible. Helping him stack boxes and cleaning up chemicals. Vicky whistled when his watch beeped seven times.

“I’ma sorry to leave ya, friendo. But my shift is over,” Vicky’s face was worried. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she huffed. She wasn’t looking forward to the next three hours. Vicky leaned over to her and whispered in her ear.

“Keep your head down. Find some way to leave.”

Before she could ask any questions, he waved at her with a smile and headed off to get his things. Walking back to her area in Tools, she looked over her shoulder, just to see Morrison gawking at her. Behind him, Vicky was making a hand gesture and his face was grave (but in a flash changed to a smile when Morrison turned around). She was worried. Her phone was dying, at 3%, she hadn’t had the time to charge it. Today has been weighing on her. Her mind and body were stressed out. She just needed to last about forty-five minutes and make up a story about an illness or something. Her eyes would flick up to the clock almost every second, wishing for time to speed up. 

She is home-free! Whitney A. cleared her to go home! She gathered her things from her locker in the breakroom and headed for the front of the store. Just before she left the back, a co-worker, (Bradly P.) stopped her. 

“Mrs. Jack wants to talk to you downstairs. Said it was very important and to tell you before you left,” Bradly rattled off.   
Johanna’s eyes narrowed. 

“HR wants to talk to me now? I didn’t know Mrs. Jack was in at this hour,” her voice was full of accusation. 

“I am just telling you what she told me,” he raised his hands in defense, “She told me herself. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Fine, whatever. This day fucking sucks,” Johanna turned to the stairwell in the side hall next to the breakroom. 

Mrs. Jack was the HR lady and happens to be Morrison’s mother. Her office lays in the depths of the basement. It was small, only about half of the surface floor area. They put old equipment down there and some smaller offices. Mr. Jack’s office (the store manager) was right beside his wife’s. The basement itself was damp and claustrophobic. Johanna hated that the main offices were down here, closed off, and secluded. Mr. Jack was just as creepy as his son. He would stare at you too long and once, Johanna caught him sniffing another female employees’ jacket (she had left it in the breakroom). His eyes bugged out and his face boor a “you-caught-me” smirk. She complained to HR, but Mrs. Jack reassured her that “she was mistaking” and “her husband would never do that.” Mrs. Jack was very peculiar as well. She had a tenseness to her shoulders. Her jaw was always set, and her smiles were just a bit too manufactured for her to mean it. When in her office, Johanna noticed her eyes would always be on the filing cabinets on the far wall. Johanna wondered if Mrs. Jack knew she was doing that. 

Finding herself at HR’s door she knocked. No answer. She knocks with a little more force. A chill tickles her neck, all of her hairs shot straight up. Her head looks around for the presence she feels. Morrison had to be up to something. It was sad that she could only trust Vicky of all people. She should have just left, and she should have called out today. She jumps when the door clicks open.

“Hello?” she knows this is stupid.

“Ms. Wayfair come here,” Mrs. Jack’s voice sounds far off. It is echoey like she was in a cave. 

“Mrs. Jack?” she knows that this is stupid. Johanna enters the HR office. A draft blows through her hair as she pushes the door aside. The room is dark. She moves her hand along the wall to find the light switch. Once the lights flooded the darkened office, she makes out the hole in the wall; right where the old filing cabinets were supposed to be. Mrs. Jack’s voice flowed from the hole. It was about as big as the door and light didn’t penetrate the inky blackness. 

“I am here, Ms. Wayfair,” the hole whispered.

Against all the warning and alarm bells going off in her head she journeyed into the black portal. The floor was uneven, and the ceiling was low. Johanna crouched and hobbled down the “hallway.” The pathway expanded upwards and outwards, strengthening in heat, to the point of being almost unbearable. A light shone through the darkness. It highlighted the strange stone cave she was exploring. All along the walls there appeared to be veins! Her foot stepped into a soft warm and squishy substance. She yelped in surprise at the sudden change in texture. A reddish-brown liquid stained her shoes and smelled horrid, like rusty nails and sewage. 

“You are almost here, Ms. Wayfair,” the light beckoned. 

Once again failing to heed all the warning she ventured deeper into the cave. A veil of sinew hid the entrance to a wide chamber. It was lit with low-intensity floodlights. Johanna’s eyes squinted to the sudden change of light. Viewing the room with adjusted eyes she found a normal conference table with swivel chairs and a phone. The lights’ power supply hung from the ceiling. Johanna assumed that the wires connected to the building above. The veins and fleshy gunk covered the entire chamber, it all gathered above her in the center of the room.   
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What can only be described as a bag of meat hanging from the roof. Her ears now could pick up the sound of a heartbeat! Hundreds of heartbeats! The reddish-brown goo oozed from the thing. It dripped on to the table below it. As if her nose remembered how to do its job, the smell smacked her. The odor was a combination of a thousand decaying bodies left in the sun of July and the festering sewage of a hundred cities. She doubled over; her stomach trying to vomit all of its contents on to the floor. 

“Now. Now. Are you all right?” Morrison’s voice called out to her.

“What, Morrison?” another surprise. 

“Yes.” 

“Where is Mrs. Jack?” Johanna swallowed the urge to puke. 

“Not here,” Morrison walked calmly over to her, “You must have heard things.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, and with the other tilted her head up to him.

“It is no secret that I like you, Johanna. I want you,” he said. His grin appeared, all of his shiny white teeth juxtaposed the dirty and disgusting thing behind him. 

“What is that?” her hand weakly pointed at the gurgling and burping bag of meat growing off the ceiling. 

“That?” his head turned to look up at the thing, “That is Chalicy'xhalic or as my family calls him Great Great Grand-Father Jolly Jack.”  
Johanna needed a distraction and fast!

“So, what are you going to do? Feed me to that thing?” she struggled to free herself from his grip. 

He laughed. It didn’t sound right. His laugh grew more and more menacingly. 

“No,” his laughter bubbled, “I wanted my Grand to meet my new wife.” 

“What?” Johanna processed Morrison’s words, “No, I refuse! Fuck you!” 

Johanna was now desperate. Using her free hand, she swiped at Morrison with her pinkish nails. Clawing at his face, he just takes it. Over and over and over again she fights against him. He catches her hand in his supernaturally steel-like grip. An off-putting smirk took up his face and a sardonic laugh graced his lips. 

“I. Don’t. Care. What. YOU. Want,” his eyes held anger. He forced Johanna against him and kissed her with a fierceness. Johanna's strength was failing her as she fought in vain against her abuser. His tongue wiggled into her mouth and bile-filled her throat. Her eyes watered as she began to cry. He broke the kiss and stared down at her face. His head angled to the side, it would seem that he was upon an epiphany. 

“I don’t like it when you cry,” he wipes some of the tears from her face. 

“Please, let me go,” she hiccupped through her sobs.

“No.”

He wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed with an unnatural power. In her fading vision, she saw a long tube slither down from the thing and along the floor towards them. 

“I will make sure you never leave us,” his breath was cold along her ear.

She felt the fleshy tube climb up her leg, around her torso, and rest near her open mouth. To her horror (as she hangs there limp in his arms) the last thing she feels is the tube traveling down her throat and pumping something into her stomach. 

Blackness greets her like an old friend. 

-One Week Later-  
M.J. cannot believe her ears. 

“Yeah, Johanna quit and Morrison too. I heard Mr. Jack talk about a weddin’ in Florida. Miami? I think it is Miami. I am sure of it!” Vicky’s eyes narrowed trying to remember the correct information. 

“But Johanna hated that bastard, how can she go off and marry him?” M.J. was dumbfounded. She was gone for a couple of days and she comes home, finds that everything has changed, and not for the better. Her mind could not comprehend Johanna doing anything like that. She tries to find any hints her friend left her- 

“Marian Josephine Carter, you’re spiraling,” Vicky’s calming voice guides her back to the ground. 

“Thanks, Vicky,” M.J. lets out a breath, “I don’t want to believe she was faking all of that. Why would she lie to me? To us? Were we not her friends?” 

Tears threaten to stain her face. Vicky pulls her into a friendly bear hug. 

“I know. I know. I am just surprised as you are,” he pets her hair to try and calm her down, “I think something fishy is goin’ on. I just don’t have the proof yet.”

“I knew something was wrong when she didn’t text me back for a while,” she sniffles, “I didn’t know if she was mad at me.” 

M.J. recalls ringing her friend up. One ring. Two rings. Picked up on the third, it was Morrison who answered. He reassured her, Johanna was fine, they were shopping, and trying on dresses. This is how she found out they were getting married. She could hear her friend’s voice in the background. Morrison promised that her friend would call her after a while. That was last week and still no texts or phone calls. She is worried. Very worried. 

“Listen to me,” Vicky looked straight into her eyes, “We will solve this. We will get our friend back. None of this makes any sense to me, but this is far from over!” Vicky pumps his fist into the air.   
M.J. can’t help to chuckle at his antics. She hopes beyond hope that her friend is right. 

-The lost book of saint Rebecca of ur-  
3:12 Beware, My Children, when the Son of the Son of the Son of the Son of the Son has a Son, All will end. The sky will become as fire. The sea as blood. And the Earth will tremble with the force of a thousand horses. All will know pain, hunger, and death. As I say, Rebecca of Ur.  
-The Rest is Lost to History-


End file.
